Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday C
February 14, 2010
Texts:  Exodus 32:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-43

Just another mountaintop experience!
Is that what the disciples experienced with Jesus
On top of Mount Tabor??

Mountaintop experiences have become something of a cliché.
Particularly in an Olympic year
And a year in which one of our local women wins Olympic Gold in the moguls.

However, in this area of the country, with our terrain,
We are blessed with the physical possibility of having exactly this type of experience.

Some of you know that this time of year,
My favorite leisure activity
Is getting my money’s worth out of my midweek ski pass to Mount Sunapee.

Occasional mornings when I can find a couple of hours
I skip my usual exercise routine
And head to the mountain for outdoor exercise.

If I can free up a Tuesday morning,
I particularly like to participate in the Women’s Ski clinics.

I have met a group of women,
Most of whom are at least as old as me
Who enjoy pushing the edge
To improve their skiing skills.

We do this under the guidance
Of a ski instructor,
Who is 60 something, if not 70,
But who takes moguls with the best of them.

The women in the clinic know that I am a pastor—
The trips up in the chair lift give plenty of opportunity for conversation.

Their running joke when I manage to show up on Tuesdays,
Is that I have come to the mountain for sermon inspiration.

On most Tuesdays, I get inspiration
Simply from the fresh air, sunshine,
And the feeling of elation I get flying down the mountain.

However, this past Tuesday,
My experience provided more direct inspiration.

I had a classic mountaintop experience,
And unlike Hannah Kearney’s gold medal at the bottom,
But more like the disciples in this morning’s gospel,
It was linked to a much less stellar down in the valley experience.

If you remember last Tuesday morning,
It was one of those brilliant high sky New England days.
Before the ski clinic started,
I had taken several super runs with one of the other women.

I was feeling good flying down the mountain,
And the ski conditions seemed excellent. 

After we gathered for the start of the clinic,
We rode the chair up to the top of the bowl. 

In my earlier runs,
Perhaps the light wasn’t quite right,
Or perhaps I didn’t stop to absorb the view.

But this time,
The instructor stopped at the ridge of the hill
And we all took a deep breath
As we let the view sink in.

At the foot of the mountain was frozen Lake Sunapee
Dotted with its islands and ringed by spruce and evergreens
But towering above the lake,
Ridges of mountains were visible
All the way to the Presidentials.

And off to the right of the horizon,
The sun glinted off the white jagged face of Mount Washington.
This is a view seldom seen,
Particularly from the distance of Mount Sunapee.

The view was such that I wanted to stop longer
And let the sight etch its way into my brain.
I wanted this moment to last longer. 

But all too soon, the ski instructor started down the hill
And near the bottom,
She led us to the edge of the mogul field, under the chair lift.

Now, I started skiing late in life,
And although I have become much better,
I don’t really have enough precision control,
Or the piston knees
To do bumps with any grace.

In a class setting, on a good day, with a little coaching,
I can usually be coaxed into doing 
A little skiing in and out from the edge in the baby bumps,
Particularly if the hill is not too steep.

This time, maybe I started up a little too high,
Or maybe it was bit icy,
Or maybe I was just still stiff,
But on my way into the second bump,
I felt a thump on my left hip
And found myself face down between mounds of snow. 

Since I don’t get up easily,
I certainly don’t bounce up like the two American women who wiped out last night,
I had to contort  myself to take my skis off,
And crawl out of the bumps on all fours,
In full view of all the people on the chair lift.

Talk about humiliating!

I partially redeemed myself
By putting my skis back on and doing the last few bumps in an upright position,
But the damage had been done.

From mountaintop elation,
I had plunged with a thud
To full humiliation at the bottom of the hill. 

This experience has a few elements in common,
With the disciples’ experience in this morning’s Gospel

They had gone out with Jesus on an expedition up Mount Tabor.
The view from the top of this mountain is outstanding
With a view down to the Sea of Galilee.
And across to the other side toward Nazareth. 

I don’t know if the weather that day was good for a view
Or if Peter, James and John had enough energy to let it sink in.

But they weren’t really there for the view
And it seems they were exhausted from the rugged climb
And were ready to nap while Jesus prayed.

In that kind of half asleep stage
They suddenly realized that Jesus had changed appearance
His face was glowing and his clothes seemed dazzling.

But even more stunning was the arrival
Of Elijah and Moses,
The two heroes of God’ chosen people—
Moses, who had received the Ten Commandments directly from God
And the prophet Elijah, who had experienced God in the sheer sound of silence.

The disciples weren’t sure what was going on,
But they knew it was a once in a lifetime mountain top experience.

Peter wanted to hold onto this experience.
Kind of like me wanting to etch that view of Mount Washington into my brain.

Peter, wanting to make this experience last longer,
Offered to build some shacks for Jesus, Moses and Elijah,
Perhaps so they could all stay up on top of that peak for a little while.

But if Peter thought seeing Elijah and Moses was special,
The best was yet to come.
From under the cover of a cloud,
The three disciples heard God speak.
As God claimed Jesus as God’s Son,
And instructed Peter, James and John to listen to Jesus.

Picture that experience.
Feel the elation, fear and awe of the disciples.
This is not an event that can be explained,
Or rationalized or experienced with our five senses.
There really are not words to describe an encounter with God.

In fact, the disciples did not even attempt to talk about it.
They kept silent and told no one any of these things

But the experience could not last.
Far too soon,
It was over and they were among the crowds
Back down the hill,
Down with a thud,
As resoundingly humiliating as my own crash.
Back down from the mountaintop,
The disciples watch
As a father brings his only child to Jesus to be healed,
Chastising the disciples for their inability to do healings.

Think about the contrasting experiences. 
One day Peter, James and John are singled out for a visit with God,
And the next day they are shown up as incompetent by a human father,
And then given a tongue lashing by Jesus for their lack of faith. 

How do you think they handled this turn of events?
What sustained them during this humiliation?
What kept them from just walking out on Jesus
And going back to their fishing business?

What did they take away from the meeting with God
On the top of Mount Tabor
That kept them going?

Did those words
“This is my Son, listen to him”
Cause Peter, James and John
To sit up and take notice
Even when Jesus took them to task? 

Did they accept Jesus’ reprimand
Because they realized that is was coming from God’s son?

Did they stay because the things they had seen and heard from Jesus
So attracted them
That they were stuck to him like the opposite poles of two magnets?

Did the glimpse of God’s kingdom
Which they saw through Jesus
Keep them coming back for more,
Even when they didn’t really understand things
Or when they couldn’t seem to get their own roles right?

How about you,
What keeps you coming back?
Coming back for that encounter with God,
Heard in the Word and experienced in the bread and wine?

What keeps you coming back into God’s fold,
When the folks around you are distrustful of religion
And maybe even scornful of God’s existence?
What keeps you coming back,
When there are so many things competing for your attention?

After my literal down in the valley experience,
The ski instructor tried to give a boost to my self esteem
By praising me for getting up and trying again,
And by reminding me how much my skiing has improved.

I am grateful to her for trying,
But it really wasn’t necessary.
My identity is not tied to my success or lack there of in skiing.
My identity is tied to my baptism in Christ.

Regardless of my joyful mountaintop ski experiences,
The encounters that light up my life,
Are the vague glimpses of God
That I experience through the risen Christ. 

I suspect that the disciples stuck with Christ,
Because the things that they saw and heard Jesus do and say
Brought them as close to the presence of God as they were going to get.
Those encounters with the Divine,
Were more compelling than any criticism they would receive for not getting it right. 

Only you really know what keeps you coming back.
Maybe the pull of your baptism,
The reminder of your identity as a chosen child of God
Ties you to the Christian community.
Maybe somewhere, somehow there have been some mountaintop experiences
Where you were able to glimpse, hear or feel God,
And maybe those reminders and experiences are so uplifting
That they are worth whatever sacrifices you have to make
Or the questioning stares you have to endure.

If only those around you could see what you see,
Or hear what you hear
Then perhaps they too would be pulled into Christ’s orbit. 

It is truly in the hope of the crucified and risen Christ,
That you can see the gracious God
Who is with you, for sure, on the mountaintop
But just as surely on the plunges back down into the depths of the valley.

The promise that God comes down to you in Christ,
Is compelling enough to sustain you through the mountains and valleys of this life
Until you ascend to the final mountaintop experience.  Amen